


The Hamdi Debate

by pyrrhical (anoyo)



Category: Chicago Justice (TV)
Genre: Esoteric Faffing, Hamdi v Rumsfeld, M/M, Pre-Canon, complete self-indulgence, law school era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 20:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11470992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/pyrrhical
Summary: Every law school class gets their own landmark case through the Supreme Court - they happen every three years at minimum.It just so happened that while Peter was in the summer of his first year, the Hamdi v Rumsfeld decision came down.Never let it be said that any landmark comes alone with bells and whistles.





	The Hamdi Debate

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally mumblemumble but I have been informed that it's complete esoteric faffing, so if that's your thing, THIS IS FOR YOU.
> 
> It's a legal show fanfic, about law students, talking about a Supreme Court case, written by a lawyer. Just. Keep that in mind? (That said, I've also been told that it's understandable even if you haven't taken two semesters of law school-level constitutional law.)
> 
> Also! This fic runs on the assumption that Peter is ~35 (...he's probably 40, let's not lie, but I think the show might have been aiming for younger? We'll never know now.). That would (roughly) put him as a 1L 2003-2004.

After arguments, but before the opinion dropped, Peter’s Constitutional Law professor had handed down an assignment to predict the outcome of _Hamdi v Rumsfeld_. They were to use what they had learned so far to argue one position or the other, following both precedent and the arguments that had come before the Court.

There was a lot of muttering, most of it about the last-minute assignment, but some about the case itself and the politics involved. 

It was going to be a landmark decision, no matter which way the Court swung. Peter had to believe they’d swing the way of right, but the law was never that simple. 

Since he’d started law school, the concept of “right” had been drowned in shades of gray Peter had never even seen. What was right? Moral correctness? Constitutional correctness? Only one of those had a written definition, and even then, the very concept of the Supreme Court meant that it was open to interpretation -- whether or not you were in the “living document” camp.

If the concept of “right” was guided by moral correctness, whose moral correctness was going to get to judge?

That question had led to the worst break-up of Peter’s life.

Peter’s cell rang just as he was tidying up his essay, and he flipped it open while he ran each of his citations past the many pages of his Blue Book. “Hello?”

“Peter.” Nathan’s voice. Peter smiled, but continued to keep half his attention on finishing his citations. “Andrew wants to know if we want to meet him and Kathy for drinks at O’Connor’s.”

“Huh,” Peter said, settling onto his last citation. “I’m just finishing up my essay now. When does he want to meet us?”

“He and Kathy are already there,” Nathan answered, voice tinny over the line. “They said they’d save us a booth.”

“Why do I feel like this is just a courtesy call and you’re already outside?” Peter asked, trying to sound skeptical, but likely failing.

“Because it is, and I am,” Nathan replied, and Peter could hear the laughter in his voice. “Now get out here.”

Peter ran one last cursory eye over his essay -- he might have gone a bit overboard -- before he saved it to his desktop, then to a disc, just to make sure he didn’t lose it. That had only needed to happen once.

Nathan was standing on his front steps as Peter shrugged into his jacket and pulled the door shut behind him. He locked it and dropped his keys into his pocket, then leaned forward to kiss Nathan hello. Nathan grinned and ran a hand through Peter’s hair, then grabbed his forearm and began to drag him down the stairs. O’Connor’s was only a few blocks from Peter’s apartment, and the late June weather meant it was a pleasant walk, if a bit humid.

“I bet you’re just soaking up the joy of summer classes right now, aren’t you?” Nathan asked, turning on his heel to walk backwards, looking Peter in the eye. 

Peter shrugged. “Summer ConLaw is a great way to bounce into 2L ConLaw.” He grinned. “Also a great way to take some extra electives.”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “You and class. There’s workaholic, and then there’s you, Peter.”

“So you’ve told me,” Peter agreed. “Repeatedly.”

“Summer is for internships and drinking, not class, internships, and barely finding the time to sleep, man,” Nathan argued. “We have to enjoy law school before we’re actually lawyers, working eighty hours a week for peanuts.”

“Yeah,” Peter said flatly. “Peanuts. Until you finish your hazing years and make more than the GDI of a small country.”

Nathan laughed. “Truth.” He turned around and linked his arm through Peter’s. “At least in corporate or civil law.” He glanced sideways at Peter. “I’ve heard prosecution isn’t quite so lucrative.”

“Probably not,” Peter agreed, humming additional agreement.

Nathan wasn’t the first man Peter had been with, but he was the first man Peter had ever dated beyond the occasional second-night-stand. Peter usually fell for the idealistic, save-the-world types. Nathan was neither of those things. He came from a family of corporate lawyers, planned on going into corporate law himself, and mainly saw law school as a necessary evil. 

But Peter loved to argue, and so did Nathan. More than that, they could argue and then let it go, the argument slipping away into sex and a mutual ability to separate disagreement from anger. 

Nathan loved to play devil’s advocate, taking whatever stance was least like the one Peter had tied himself to, and then trying to tear down whatever support Peter had laid for his beliefs. Sometimes it worked, though more often, it didn’t. Peter had solidified what he believed in long before he’d had the law to back it up. 

When they reached the bar, it was easy enough to spot Andrew and Kathy waiting for them, sitting comfortably in a side booth. Kathy waved when she saw them, and Nathan waved Peter on to the table, assuring him he’d bring their usuals over.

“Hey!” Kathy said loudly, raising her voice to be heard over the general rumble of the bar. “How’s the essay going?”

“Good!” Peter answered. “Just finished. How about you two?”

Andrew and Kathy exchanged looks. They were Peter’s only married friends in law school, despite the large number of older students and other married couples. Nathan said Peter was antisocial; Peter said calling him a sociopath was a little harsh. Then they’d laugh, and Peter wouldn’t have to explain that he wasn’t always a people person. It worked for them.

Andrew and Kathy had been high school sweethearts and subsequently stayed together despite getting their undergraduate degrees on opposite ends of the country. They were both going into Intellectual Property Law, and Peter refrained on commenting on how ridiculous their combined annual income was going to be. If he was honest, there were moments he considered going into something more lucrative; saving the world would pay well above the national average, but nowhere near what most of his classmates would be making. Peter envied that hypothetical, future luxury.

Kathy turned her eyes from Andrew to Peter. “Done? We just got the assignment this morning, Peter. It’s not due until Monday.”

Peter shrugged. “I knew what I wanted to say, so I said it.”

“Good on you, Stone,” Andrew said, swinging an arm back around Kathy’s shoulders. “The rest of us are going to have to actually pull some cases to write ours.”

“Just look at what Dunham and Clement argued in their briefs,” Peter said. “Take that and extrapolate your own conclusions. Devil’s advocate some bullshit if you have to; you know Kende loves that.”

Kathy snorted. “I don’t think he loves the bullshit, but he does love a devil’s advocate argument.”

Peter waved a hand. “What I meant.”

Sliding into the seat next to Peter and setting something dark and foamy on Peter’s side of the table, Nathan added, “Who, Kende? I just heard devil’s advocate.”

Andrew laughed. “Fair enough.” He shrugged. “What do you think, Stone? How’s the Court going to come out on this one?”

Peter shrugged. “In favor of habeas corpus,” he said. “I’d almost lay bets that she takes both Dunham and Clement’s arguments and weaves them into the same thing. _Matthews v Eldridge_ puts the ball firmly in Hamdi’s court.”

“How so?” Nathan asked, taking a sip of his beer. “ _Matthews_ is a limiting factor. _Hamdi_ is trying to argue that habeas corpus should apply to assumed terrorists. If anything, _Matthews_ is going to push the ball out of bounds. SCOTUS is going to reason that the courts shouldn’t be sticking their noses into executive functions.”

“I’m with Nathan,” Andrew said, raising his hand. “Terrorists lose their right to constitutional protection.”

“But who determines whether or not they’re a terrorist?” Peter asked. “Beyond that, Hamdi is an American citizen. He doesn’t lose his rights based on presumption; that would totally negate the Sixth Amendment right to a jury trial, or at minimum, the possibility of a jury trial.”

“Completely disagree,” Nathan countered. “The Constitution only applies to American citizens. By acting as a terrorist, Hamdi gives up his citizenship.”

Peter dragged a hand through his hair. “But that’s not the argument. The argument is over whether it should be presumed that he’s a terrorist without right to a trial determining the applicability of that definition. His writ of habeas corpus should be allowed on the grounds of his citizenship status and innocent until proven guilty.”

“I think the guy’s pretty damn guilty,” Andrew said, shrugging. “They caught him in an active war zone, acting as a terrorist. That’s pretty damning.”

“Sure,” Peter agreed. “I agree the guy’s a terrorist, and that if he uses this argument to get released, that’s bullshit, but it doesn’t change the argument. Until proven otherwise, he’s an American citizen, and deserves full Constitutional protection.”

“Are we going to start applying Constitutional protection to all terrorists next?” Nathan asked, drumming his fingers on the table. 

“That’s not the question right now,” Peter said. “The question is about the rights of an American citizen to the protection of the Constitution, and whether the courts have a right to jurisdiction in this avenue.”

“And I’m saying both answers are no,” Nathan said, frowning. “Anything else and we’re supporting terrorism.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Andrew said, raising his hands. “Interpretation of the Constitution has nothing to do with terrorism. It isn’t for or against it. It’s just drawing a fact-based conclusion in order to interpret a document that couldn’t possibly have accounted for everything.”

“I agree that the Constitution is a living document,” Nathan said, frowning. He’d finished his beer while Peter hadn’t been looking. “I just don’t agree that any interpretation that supports terrorism could ever be gathered from its contents.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Peter said. “It doesn’t support terrorism. They’re not arguing whether he’s a terrorist, or whether they can restrict what happens to him if he’s declared a terrorist. They’re arguing whether or not he has a right to be tried before someone goes ahead and declares him, and whether a court has the right to make that decision.”

“If they wait for a court to determine if everyone who blows up a bus full of children is a terrorist, no one will ever be declared a terrorist in time to stop them,” Nathan argued.

“I don’t think they’re arguing anything about holding,” Kathy said, scooting further into Andrew’s side, toward the booth’s exit.

“No, but we all know whatever they decide in _Hamdi_ will inform the opinion for _Rasul v Bush_ , and once anyone can apply for habeas corpus, the government will lose any ability to properly punish terrorists,” Nathan continued. 

Peter paused. “What does that even mean?” he asked. “‘Properly punish’? We punish according to the law and the guidelines established in the Geneva convention. We don’t just execute terrorists the moment we decide they’re terrorists. That’s not justice.”

“The hell it isn’t,” Nathan said. “I think I’m done with this conversation.” He pushed himself out of the booth, then turned and walked toward the exit. 

Peter made a face in Andrew and Kathy’s direction, then moved to follow him. Peter had to jog to catch up with Nathan outside the bar. 

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Nathan’s forearm. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Nathan answered shortly. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” Peter asked. “Over a debate? That’s never been an issue before. We debate all the time, Nathan.” 

“It’s not just the debate,” Nathan said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. Peter shuffled until he wasn’t blocking anyone’s path while Nathan continued, “It’s the idea that you don’t seem to take terrorism seriously.”

“Jesus Christ, Nathan,” Peter said, breathing out all at once. “Of course I take terrorism seriously. How could I not?”

“I don’t know,” Nathan answered. “That’s the problem.” He shook off Peter’s hand. “Don’t call me.”

Peter watched him walk away. He hadn’t woken up that morning expecting to be dumped just because he believed in the law, even when it was occasionally inconvenient to be consistent in those beliefs. 

It wasn’t the first time his beliefs had gotten him in trouble in a relationship, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He had some small comfort when _Hamdi_ came down echoing Peter’s own arguments about fairness and the rights of the individual. It was right, it was good, but “right” and “good” would never really add up to “happiness.”


End file.
